Synergy
by SlimyBunny
Summary: Brown locks on brown and Chuck Bass discovers that he has a soul." Series of oneshots that range from pre-series to summer to infinity and beyond. BC. Spoiler Free
1. Tiffany

**(A/N An one-shot that may turn into a series of one-shots but for now stands alone. My first attempt at some light hearted fluff so please, please, please review and let me know if it was a complete and epic fail or not.)**

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**Spotted: N hooking up with Upper East Side royalty, only it seems to be the wrong one. If memory serves, wasn't N's Queen a brunette, not a blonde princess that looks a lot like our late Queen B's best friend? Wonder what B thinks about this; too bad we'll probably never know since she's been locked up in the Bass chambers all summer. **

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Chuck decides that he hates Gossip Girl.

Before this very moment, Chuck had always held a shred of respect for the life-ruining whore, simply because she was ruthless, evasive, and could wreck more destruction than Chuck, Blair, and a five ton ball of steel combined.

In fact, in the pre-Blair era he had even had a slight crush on her (he had assumed that she was a super-model look-a-like and not a balding pedophile) and had once fantasized about the two of them causing havoc together and falling into bed afterwards. Of course then Blair Waldorf had stepped onto stage and stripped to nothing but her slip and stilettos for him; afterwards he would have had to be Narcoleptic to be able to dream of other girls, much less fictional versions of them.

After his short-lived adoration of the femme fatale with the slightly cheesy, and oh-so-obvious, alias, he had still retained a tolerance for her, and (dare he say it?) a slight admiration of her style.

But now, Chuck Bass officially hates Gossip Girl.

He loathes her with a passion almost as fierce as that of his feelings towards his beloved uncle and Georgina Sparks, and it isn't because she almost ruined his life countless times.

It is because the gossip girl blast comes during a particularly loud and raunchy bout of sex with the aforementioned brunette.

She breaks off mid-moan, her head popping up and (sadly) off pillow.

"Was that a Gossip Girl blast?" She asks, her eyes wide as she brushed some of her mused hair out of her face.

Chuck sighs, and he feels a wave of utter-loathing wash through his body as he pulls on his pants.

"I thought the bitch was supposed to leave us alone for the summer," he mutters as his girlfriend reaches over to pick up the phone on the bed stand, which is now vibrating and proclaiming in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Blair's, 'Beware! This is a gossip girl blast!' over and over.

Chuck chuckles and Blair pulls his hair.

Ah, young love.

"Oh my god," Blair Waldorf suddenly proclaims, jutting upright. "Serena and Nate are together."

"Oh." Chuck looks up at her guardedly, "is that a bad thing?"

"No, of course not. Nate was always in love with Serena when we were together, and he always kept looking at her with moony eyes and acting like I was too mentally handicapped to see it! Besides, they're a better fit! He needs someone like Serena. Do you know that Nate doesn't actually like Breakfast at Tiffany's?" Blair asks, eyes a little wild.

"He actually called me once to tell me that he and Serena went to watch American Pie! And that he enjoyed it! He said that he'd be happy to watch it again with me, if I wanted! We'd been going out for five years, and in that five years he had never initiated any dates! And the first date he asks me out on—or the first one that he plans at least, because I know you planned our first date, Bass—is to go watch American Pie! Did you know that?"

Actually, he did know, because after Blair had refused, Nate had taken Chuck instead, both for their third viewing.

"I don't know why I was with a boy who can't even appreciate the subtle flavors that Tiffany's posses!" Each word is punctuated with a higher decibel than the one before it. "I mean, I know it might seem like I'm freaking out, but I'm not freaking out! Really, I'm not!"

Chuck Bass nods.

"Charles Bartholomew Bass if you keep nodding I swear to God, I won't have sex with you for the rest of summer!"

Chuck Bass stills.

"Besides, you're allowed to freak out," she continues, "when you realize that you've wasted all of your high-school years with a boy who feels that fine cinema is composed of crude jokes and oral sex! And the worst thing, the absolute worst thing, was that Nate actually expected me to watch the sexist movie with him! As if I would subject myself to three torturous hours watching a movie that not only makes a mockery of high-school but is degrading to women and human beings with a functioning brain alike!" Finally, she breaks off panting.

Chuck Bass puts a finger to his chin and ponders this.

"You know, there's a porn version of Breakfast at Tiffany's," he finally says.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Want to watch it?"

"Okay."

Never before has Chuck Bass ever felt so loved.

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**(A/N I love reviews like Georgina loved Jesus)**


	2. Mess

**(A/N THE UNIMPORTANT PART:**

Back due to popular demand, this is part 2 of I don't know how many parts of Synergy. I don't know if this is really what you guys wanted, and it's tone is quite different from the last one, so I hope at least one person is satisfied.

Right now (where I live) it's 2 in the morning and I've been trying to sleep since eleven but sadly I was dumb enough to go out and try the new Starbuck's latte half an hour before bed, and now my heart is beating to the beat of a hummingbirds wings. So this fic is what you get when you mix late nights, post-test satisfaction, and a lot of caffeine together. I just finished it, and I'll admit that I haven't read it through AT ALL, so if I read it again tomorrow and find out that it sucks, then I definitely did not write this.

**THE IMPORTANT PART:  
**This is pre-series. That is all.

**Enjoy (if you can)!) **

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"_Who will save you soul after all the lies that you told,  
Who will save your soul if you won't save you own?"_

_-Jewel_

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**Spotted: The clock ticks down and the Prince is with the wrong Cinderella. Wonder where our lovely Queen is hiding? Who will rescue you now B?**

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He finds her slumped against the toilet; her hair in disarray, mascara streaming down her face, and small hiccups rattling her frail frame.

He's no good at cleaning up messes.

He's Chuck Bass. Most of his life is spent making messes, and afterwards there's always enough money to make it disappear or a maid to clean it up for him and fuck him later.

He's no good with messes, so his legs twitch and he's about to turn around and walk away (flee) because she's Blair Waldorf. They're the Non-Judging Breakfast Club and he'll clean puke off of her face and buy her bagels any time and any day of the week, and he likes her the (in)appropriate amount you like your best friend's girlfriend, but she's not his girlfriend, and _she'ssonothisproblem _and (more importantly) _ohgodhecan'thandlethis._

But before he can turn around and pretend he never had to see Blair Waldorf as a human, she turns her big brown eyes towards him, now stretched wide and glistening with tears and something else that eerily resembles vulnerability, hooking into the soul he didn't know that he had, so that he can't move without tearing every façade into pieces.

An eternity passes.

Then another.

Finally:

"Chanel lied; it's not waterproof," she whispers to him, eyes still open wide.

His legs (her eyes) carry him forward, and he slides down next to her, his one of a kind vintage purple vest from Armani rubbing against the grimy bathroom tiles. Someone's probably had sex on this floor, he thinks, at least three times tonight. Whatever, he's not going to pretend that he played a main role in two of the three times.

So they sit there together, the devil and the saint, until the lines blur and he can't quite remember who's what anymore.

"Is it Nate?" He finally asks, and berates himself immediately; of course it's Nate.

It's always Nate.

A beat.

"No."

Almost imperceptibly a brow un-furrows and a slight sound of suede rubbing against linoleum as shoulders relax is heard.

"It's my birthday," she says, turning to him for the first time, eyes glinting like marble with an unnatural light.

"I know Waldorf," he chuckles softly because _this_ (the bathroom floor, her wet eyes, the slight tremble of her lips as she bites down on them after the word 'birthday') _has _to be funny. "We're at your party."

"Oh," the sound escapes her from her lips involuntarily, "yeah, right."

She leans forward and a cascade of brown locks that he can tell she had Dorota impeccably curl at least three times prior to the party fall forward, shielding her face from his view.

Instead, Chuck looks up; there are two small cracks in the ceiling. Three tiles to the left there is one sock that is somehow stuck above on the gold rims with some adhesive mixture of mayonnaise and mustard. Five tiles below that there are exactly seventy-six indigo squiggles on it, forming a pattern that, after much observation, looked somewhat like a cupid holding an apple to him.

"My dad's in Rome visiting Roman's parents," she blurts out. "They're elderly."

Just as quickly, she turns her head away from him and looks back at the tiles.

"Mom's in Paris," (eyes hard and smile fixed), "She wants to be here, but it's really important for her to go to this meeting if she wants her line to be carried in all the newest stores coming fall."

Chuck closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the bathtub.

"Serena's dancing with Nate." Her head is bowed forward and her lilting voice raises an octave above hysterical. "The DJ is playing their favorite song, a fast one, and you know how I don't like to dance to fast songs."

"You know," she babbles on, "I'm really glad that there's no weirdness between them. I was worried when Nate and I got together that Serena would feel left out somehow, and I would somehow have to choose, but I'm so glad that I don't and that they're just like before. Really, I'm so glad."

Chuck remains still.

"He sent me a text message you know?" She says, laughing. "Ten minutes ago—the moment I turned fourteen because he was stuck in the middle of the dance floor with Serena."

"He sent me a text message," she sobs.

Her head falls forward with a soft thump.

"I just wanted someone to see me," she whispers to her knees.

A beat.

Chuck Bass doesn't clean messes, but wordlessly he reaches for her left hand and captures her wrist in his palm. Deftly, he pulls out to knob of her Cartier watch, stopping the world and turning it back eleven minutes.

"I've spent my whole life watching you Blair Waldorf."

He presses the knob in, and the watch (their world) ticks back to life again.

"Happy Birthday," he says against her lips.

'_Thank you'_ she whispers back into his.

A beat (an eternity).

She leans back first. It's no real kiss, but Chuck Bass hovers, only for a beat(an eternity) because somehow kissing Blair Waldorf, however chastely, is something a person needs to recover from.

She smiles.

(She doesn't tell him that it's her first kiss.)

A slightly clack, and she's back on her too-high Jimmy Choo's, fixing her make-up.

"Ugh," she frowns, "my hair. Do you have a comb?" She looks down, brown eyes stretched wide but now clear of tears (its moments like these that he thinks that maybe one day she'll own his soul), her hand extended towards his.

Fingers rustle in velvet lined pockets before extracting themselves and pushing the desired object into her hands.

He smiles back.

(He doesn't tell her that he knows.)

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**(A/N I love reviews the way Olivia and Vanessa love kissing girls!)**


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